The Last Thing I See is You
by Leaving-My-Mark
Summary: He looked at her beautiful face, wanting it to be the last thing he saw, wanting to say more, wanting to tell her how much he loved her… Cal's thought process during his last moments. Chloe/Cal. Spoilers for episode 11, "Splash". Please read and review!


Author's Note:_ So__ I know that there are a LOT of Chloe/Cal stories in the Harper's Island fanfic section, but I was dying to write my own ficlet about them. However, instead of writing one centering on Chloe and her last moments, I'm going to write one focusing on Cal and his, because I haven't seen any stories like that yet._

Disclaimer:_I don't own Harper's Island. The plot and the characters used in this story belong to CBS, and any of the dialogue included from episode eleven, "Splash," is only used to advance the story._

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**The Last Thing I See is You**

There they were, sitting there embracing each other and so glad to be together once more. He didn't waste any time asking her to marry him. They were both so frightened, and the moment wasn't exactly what you would call opportune (he seemed to lack the ability to find an opportune moment for anything), but their lives could end at any moment here on Harper's Island, and he couldn't stand waiting any longer.

He had been so afraid that he had lost her when he noticed she was missing in the church, but to know that she was still alive, to hear her voice, to see her face and feel her touch again made Cal feel so relieved.

And then that feeling was torn away, ripped apart, as he saw who stood at the top of the little hill where the woods ended and the bridge began. His whole body turned to ice; he could feel the terror pulsing through his veins and seeping through his skin.

He and Chloe scrambled to their feet as Wakefield took a step closer.

Holding up the gun he held, Cal fired…and missed. "RUN!" He shouted at her, pushing her forward onto the bridge. He looked back once, watching as the man with the long blade in his hand slowly walked towards them, a murderous, unforgiving gleam in his eyes and a calm, almost bored look on his face, like this was so simple, so _effortless, _that it nearly took all the fun out of killing.

They had nearly made it all the way across the bridge when they came to a stop in front of a metal-wire gate. Both of them looked over their shoulder, seeing Wakefield quickly close the distance between them and him, then back at the gate.

"Climb over! Quick! Get to the other side!" Cal shouted in a panic to Chloe. She nodded, and then she grabbed onto the gate and pulled herself up, beginning to climb. "Faster! Go, go, go!" He ordered, as he watched over his shoulder as Wakefield drew closer and closer.

Fear and panic rose inside him, and it threatened to control and immobilize him, but he wouldn't let it. Not until he knew Chloe was out of the killer's reach.

He heard her scrambling halfway across the gate that was blocking their escape. "Come with me," she begged through sobs, and he looked back at her, wishing so dearly that he could.

He knew he was gaining on them. She wouldn't make it unless… "Chloe—Chloe, look at me. I love you."

"What are you doing?" she demanded through tears, but Cal turned away, telling himself that he needed to do what he was about to if she even stood a chance of getting away and surviving. It was the toughest thing he'd ever do—it was the last thing he'd ever do. As he turned to face his matchmaker, all Cal thought of was Chloe; he was doing this for her.

Wakefield was standing only a few steps away from him, the long, pointed, and glistening knife in his hand at his side. His cold, steely eyes were fixed upon Cal, staring boldly and apathetically right back at him. They were going to be the last thing he saw.

Cal had never quite imagined his death to be anything like this. He thought that he'd grow old and his hair would turn grey first; he thought that he would die peacefully and naturally…perhaps in his sleep, dreaming of his sweet Chloe. He never would have imagined he would die like this, looking into the unfeeling, remorseless eyes of John Wakefield, who was standing there waiting for him to first make his move before piercing him with the same blood-stained knife he clutched in his calloused hand that he probably had used to kill other people he knew with.

Cal swallowed, and then he picked up the shotgun leaning against the fence which his fiancé was clutching onto, watching him with tears in her eyes, glued to her spot on the side of the fence._ I won't die a coward,_ he told himself, even though he was as scared as hell.

Holding up the gun with the butt in the air and collecting all the courage he could muster in one short second, Cal stepped forward and swung with all his might, his eyes never leaving those of the man with the blade in front of him who looked at him as if he was weak and pathetic…some little bug so quickly and easily squashed.

His target ducked, and so he swung again, but Wakefield easily—effortlessly—yanked the gun out of his hands, punched him in the face (stunning him momentarily), and tossed it over the side of the bridge, making it seem like nothing more than a useless, silly little toy. He watched it fall into the water—his only defense gone. He then turned back and did the only thing he could think of: he lunged at Wakefield, clutching his hands around his neck in a futile and foolish last attempt to stop him. Wakefield held up his knife, holding it above his head and ready to pierce it through him.

Cal abandoned his attempt to strangle him, and instead grabbed the man's wrist, fighting his grip, but he knew that Wakefield was stronger and he was rapidly overpowering him. He felt his back collide with the railing of the bridge, felt himself losing the battle, and heard the terrified, agonizing cries of Chloe, who was still clinging to the fence, watching. He didn't want her to see this, but there was no way to get her to look away.

Wakefield's strength overpowered him, and slowly and painfully, the blade sank into his shoulder, which screamed furiously and angrily. He could feel the knife draining him of life, and he suddenly feared what would come soon after this.

But even through all the pain and fear he felt, Cal could still hear Chloe's agonizing, tearful screams. They were what pierced through every sound, every feeling, and every moment. His heart ached at the sound of them; they were worse than the feeling of the blade that was currently shoved through his shoulder and stealing his life away, yanking him away from the one person he loved in the world more than anyone else.

Fighting the pain and the feeling of his consciousness rapidly slipping away, Cal turned to her one last time. "Chloe," he breathed, loud enough for her to hear, letting the last word to leave his numbing lips be in the shape of her name. He looked at her beautiful face, wanting it to be the last thing he saw, wanting to say more, wanting to tell her how much he loved her…

And then everything slipped away.

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Author's Note: _Well, that made me thoroughly depressed.  
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_At first, I thought Cal and Chloe's love was superficial and shallow, but in the past few episodes, I've come to realize that it is way deeper than that, and that they actually care about each other a lot. Cal was such a sweet guy, and I wish he hadn't died.  
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_Please review!_

_Leaving-My-Mark_


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